


CHIPped (Carnivorous and Highly Infectious Prototype)

by ChippedCat



Category: She-Ra and the Princesses of Power (2018)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Zombie Apocalypse, Don't Read if You Don't Wanna See Lumity, F/F, Guest Appearance by Characters From Other Cartoon Fandoms, I dont know why you wouldnt they're adorable, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Minor Angella (She-Ra) - Freeform, Minor Bow (She-Ra) - Freeform, Minor Character Death, Minor Glimmer (She-Ra), Scorpia is a baseball bat, Some People Get Eaten, Specifically the Owl House, Zombies, you were warned
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-12
Updated: 2021-03-12
Packaged: 2021-03-18 09:54:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 13,927
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29366595
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ChippedCat/pseuds/ChippedCat
Summary: The days Catra spends wandering the wreckage of the world are the worst of her life. But they are perhaps the most peaceful. It is just her, her shovel, and her gun. And the zombies, of course, but they rarely bother her. Only when they got truly hungry would they attack one of their own.
Relationships: Adora/Catra (She-Ra)
Comments: 12
Kudos: 75





	1. Alone

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> //Anyone who has previously read this story, be advised that no changes have been made. This work has merely been split in two for easier reading//
> 
> Maybe I do like angst.....  
> Anyway, here it is. I teased this oneshot over a month ago and I just now finished it. Oops. Well, it's done now and hopefully you all like it. I think it's alright, not too shabby.  
> Just a warning, this is a zombie apocalypse AU, so some folks die. Before we begin, I always appreciate it when these kinds of stories tell me who's not gonna make it, so don't get attached to Hordak, Entrapta, Rogelio, or Horde Prime.  
> Enjoy!

**THE PRESENT**

Catra walks down the dilapidated road through the streets of Nashville, clutching her coat close. It’s winter again, which means fewer survivors around, which only spells good news for her. People are just as dangerous as a horde of zombies, the CHIP’d as Entrapta called them, and much more likely to attack. Survivors grow hungry faster than the zombies do.

Nashville is a big place with many buildings, but Catra has a photographic memory, especially about traumatic events. She knows where she is going and reaches her destination by noon, standing before a small department store with broken windows and a glass door with a single bullet hole. The windows hadn’t been broken last time she was here, but the door was untouched. The blood had dried since summer, and the zombies were nowhere to be seen, off chasing other victims. The bones are still here. They are what Catra came for. 

“Hey, Entrapta.” Catra whispers sadly. There is no one around and no reason to keep her voice down, but the situation calls for quiet reverence. Her friend had fallen here, by her own bullet. The single hole in the door is a fragile but seemingly eternal testament to Catra’s failure as a friend. 

She takes off her heavy coat and gathers the bones in her jacket. The shovel suddenly grows heavier over her shoulders as she hefts the load and walks towards the little park a mile away. After months of wandering, Catra is finally here to lay Entrapta to rest. She owes her that much.

_THE PAST_

Catra had been framed. Sure, she peddled drugs and committed battery numerous times, but that was only when she was on the clock. If she had been doing her job, she wouldn’t have been caught. She was too good at it for that. Yet, when she told her lawyer that, he laughed. That’s how she ended up pleading guilty, even though she was totally innocent (that time).

The next thing she knew, she was in some maximum-security prison. Turns out battery was a violent offense, which meant she was watched nonstop by guards, lived with bars on every window, and had to share a cell with a murderer. Luckily, she knew the girl. Catra had been her boss. Catra had mocked the girl for getting caught during their phone call from the police station. How she’d laughed when Catra was brought into her cell. Catra broke her nose for that. That just made the guards watch her more closely. 

Life in prison wasn’t so bad at first. The only bad thing was that most of the caught members of her old gang lived somewhere in the facility. Even her old boss resided in the nearby male facility, which thankfully meant she never had to see the piece of shit. But of course, like things always do, prison life got worse. One night she went to bed, and the next morning she woke up in a sterile white room, strapped to a bed.

“The hell?” she shrieked, struggling. An unnaturally pale man wearing dark glasses opened the door and walked in, standing by Catra’s head so she could see him.

“Hello, Catrina.” The man said, smiling unkindly. Catra flinched.

“Who are you? Where am I? I’m supposed to be in jail for being framed!” Catra growled. The guy knew her birth name, which meant he somehow had access to her records. That was bad.

“They call me Prime, and as for where you are, I’m afraid that’s highly classified.” Prime didn’t stop smiling. “For the sake of efficiency, you can call it the Horde.”

“How did I get here?”

“You died.” Catra blanched and Prime laughed. It was an ugly sound that Catra instantly hated. “My people buy characters like you, family-less products of the system who end up in jail facing long-term sentences. The prison was paid a hefty sum to claim you died and deliver you to us. We can’t go around disappearing people who have loved ones waiting for them at the end of their sentence, but you, well, anyone with no one is up for grabs.”

“So, you grabbed me. Now what are you gonna do to me?” Catra spat. This was conspiracy theory shit.

Prime grinned wider. He removed his glasses, and Catra saw that he had four eyes, two grafted onto his face alongside his regular right eye. The cruel glint in those dark green orbs made him the most terrifying thing Catra had ever faced, even after years in a violent gang. “Anything we want.”

**THE PRESENT**

Catra softly sings to herself as she walks through Saint Louis. Singing is her latest hobby to stave off insanity, but she has to use it sparingly to not alert any nearby CHIP’d. Catra hasn’t heard anything but growls in so long that even her own voice sounds foreign and exciting. She doesn’t talk to herself much since only crazy people do that, so singing is the perfect middle ground.

A noise cuts her off mid-verse. She slings her shovel off her shoulder, preparing for a melee battle. Sure enough, Catra finds three CHIP’d in an alley, hunched over their latest victim. The poor guy seems to be alive, judging by all the shaking he’s doing. The zombies ignore Catra, too busy with the better-smelling food.

“Hey, infected!” she yells. Only one looks up. “Come get some!” the one zombie doesn’t take her up on her offer. Catra sighs and runs at them. It would be _so much_ easier if they came to her, but no, they were doing this the hard way.

Catra smashes the skull of one before the other two even notice her. She kicks them off the survivor (though that name was void now) and knocks one over the head while slamming the handle of her weapon into the other. The head of the first zombie pops off comically and the second one she rips in half with the handle in its gut. She stomps on the heads of both with her cleats before turning back to the man.

“Help me.” he whispers, voice weak from the bite in his throat. Catra stands over him, coat whipping in the wind. She’s aware of what she must look like to this man, a dark backlight figure in flowing clothing holding a gardening utensil. If she only had a scythe, the image would complete.

“There’s nothing I can do, man.” Catra tells him. He’s missing a leg and most of his stomach. Even if he wasn’t already infected from being eaten, he’d die of his injuries quickly.

“Please.” He tries again, reaching out. Catra realizes he has something in his hand. “Take….” His voice gives out, but she takes the object like instructed. It's a picture of a kid a little under Catra’s age. Given her clothes, she assumes the photo was taken after the world went to shit.

“Who are they?” she asks. The man is fading fast.

“Find. Please. Tell them.” He stammers.

“Where?” Catra tries. His vision unfocuses.

“G-G-.” He coughs, and blood comes out of his throat in the place of words. He rasps, and it is clear that he is past the point of coherency. Catra sighs, pulls out her pistol, and wastes another bullet on a human past saving.

_THE PAST_

Catra was right about the conspiracy theory. From what little she could gleam while strapped to a bed and different lab tables all day, the Horde was a private and relatively corrupt scientific institute. They were dedicated to perfecting the formula for a perfect super soldier and selling it to every major world power for gobs of cash. It all seemed pretty Captain America to Catra, but she wasn’t worried about the Horde’s ultimate goals. She was much more concerned with what they would be doing with her.

All-day, every day, for who knows how long, she was poked and prodded. She’d been shocked and stabbed with needles more times than she could count. The Horde cut her hair once a month and never let it grow anywhere near her old mane. They took endless samples of her blood, so much so that she wasn’t sure how she had any left. Catra couldn’t remember the last time she’d feed herself or used her wrists at all. The pain of muscle entropy haunted her whenever she wasn’t burning from some chemical the Horde injected her with.

At least Entrapta was nice enough. She was one of Prime’s underlings, despite the fact that she was clearly much smarter than him. She was the only person to visit Catra willingly. She headed the research division dedicated to advancing exoskeleton armor to outfit the super soldiers and had worked with Catra only once before deciding they were best friends. Catra didn’t mind the company and loved the extra food Entrapta brought her from the employee break room, even if the food was tiny. Entrapta mostly spoke about things Catra didn’t understand, but she was passionate and kind, so Catra did her best to listen.

Most of the time, Catra was a chosen test subject of Prime. He worked on the Horde’s core focus, perfecting the main ingredient in the super-soldier serum. The idea of this component was to shut down the subject’s thinking capabilities and activate their violent nature and suggestibility. Prime went through lab rats like candy, but he was still very selective with his subjects, only picking Catra several months into her stay. Her hybrid nature made her resilient, something that Entrapta had first picked up on, and attracted Prime’s attention to her. Since then, she was his main victim. She hated it.

Prime was just as sadistic as Catra suspected upon first meeting him. When a serum failed and caused Catra immense pain, he would linger in the room and watch her writhe. He usually didn't stop until one of the orderlies showed up, and he had to pretend to be doing something. Catra suspected he would save particularly painful blends and “accidentally” use them on her when she pissed him off.

Catra was happy to kill him. She wasn’t happy with what happened after.

The day was pretty typical at first. She woke up being wheeled into Prime’s main examination room by some faceless orderlies. Some of the orderlies were literally faceless thanks to an experiment gone wrong a few months into her time in the Horde. Prime was already waiting with a loaded syringe when she arrived.

“I think I’ve cracked it, Little Sister,” Prime said coolly, flicking the syringe. Officially, none of the _subjects_ at the Horde had names. People they purchased were deleted from the system to protect the Horde from missing persons investigations. Everyone had a number and a codename. Catra hadn’t heard her name from anyone but Entrapta in a long time.

“You say that twice a week.” Catra reminded him.

“Well, this time, I’m sure.” Prime insisted. He said _that_ twice a week too. He held her head to the side by her short-shaved hair and inserted the syringe into the port on the back of her neck. 

Instantly, Catra knew that this serum was different. Her heart rate sped up to where she thought her cardiovascular system might combust. Her vision tinged green, and her whole body started vibrating before everything went dark.

When she woke up, the first thing she noticed was that she was free of her bed restraints, standing upright in the middle of the examination room. The second thing she saw was that Prime was lying motionless on the ground at her feet, missing huge chunks of flesh. The last thing she noticed before Entrapta and half the security team burst in was the distinct taste of blood in her mouth.

**THE PRESENT**

Catra continues her drift north, going off comic book knowledge that said zombies move slower in the cold. She makes sure to take note of signs pointing towards Green Bay. She had looked all over Saint Louis, but there are no survivors anywhere around, let alone the ones the man was looking for. If there had been any, the CHIP’d would have found them long before Catra did. Given how abandoned the city was, other than the batch of zombies she found snacking on the survivor, she knew there was no one else in Saint Louis. 

She thinks about him repeatedly saying “G” and suspects that he may have been saying a location. When she checks a map stolen from a long-deceased tourist's pocket, she realizes the only place nearby beginning with a G is a place up north called Green Bay. Catra decides to continue the man’s quest since she is headed north anyway. 

She’d been drifting north for several months, ever since she parted ways with a group of survivors she met after Entrapta died. Things fell apart the way they always did, and she was left alone again. Maybe she was meant to be alone.

But then again, somehow, people always find her. It is never a good thing.

Catra wanders through a herd of CHIP’d, freshly fed and not bothering with her, when the distinct click of a gun’s safety being turned off sounds to her left. She turns around and sees a cloaked figure standing in the window of a nearby building, taking aim. Catra barely manages to duck as a bullet sinks into the head of a zombie right next to her. Unfortunately, the five closest zombies notice the death in their midst and converge on her. 

She rakes one’s face with her claws and shoves it out of the way, but it gets a good bite to her wrist as she runs. Catra cries out and kicks it off her, her vision going green briefly before returning to normal. She runs to the abandoned building, gun out, and dashes up the stairs to confront the survivor who almost got her killed.

“Who the fu-” she kicks open the door, and the words die in her throat. Staring back at her with startled eyes in Hordak, her old boss. Perhaps the one person she believed she would never have to put up with again. “Well shit.”

“Catra?” Hordak has changed a lot in the long time since she had seen him last. He’s thinner, less pale, and finally lost those red eyes from so many drug trips. While the few people Catra sees out in the world look like shells of who they may have once been, Hordak looks like the apocalypse was working for him. Catra could relate. “Is it really you?”

“Qadians aren’t exactly common, especially now.” Catra shrugs. Truth be told, she has never met another of her species, not even her parents. She started working for Hordak young after her shitty foster mom threw her at fourteen for liking girls.

“It must be you. Only you could mouth off in the middle of an apocalypse.” Hordak snarls. 

“And only _you_ could make it so long on pure spite.” Catra laughs.

“What are you doing so far north?” Hordak finally puts the safety back on his rifle and stands, leaning on the weapon like a cane. “Last I heard, you got busted smuggling meth across state lines somewhere in Alabama.” He shifts as he speaks. Catra notices how little weight he puts on his left leg. She files that information away for when she eventually had to turn on him. With Hordak, it's a guarantee. 

“Believe it or not, I was framed. I hadn’t been doing deliveries for months, but somebody planted the drugs in my suitcase when I took my week off. I was heading to New Orleans for Marti Gras, and the next thing I know, I’m in court. Never even got to party.” Catra shakes her head. Hordak raises an eyebrow. “They got me for battery, too. Some narcs I wailed on testified and got me thirty years plus the life for the drugs.”

“Framed, huh?”

“You know me, Hordak, there’s no way I’d be caught smuggling across state lines in something as easy as a suitcase. I have specially lined bags for jobs like that.” Catra reminds him.

“Always going the extra mile.” Hordak nods to himself. “Makes sense you would have made it. Even before this, you never valued anything but your own life.”

“A life is all one has at the end of the day.”

“And yet, there you were, life on the line to wander through a herd of walkers. Hell, I thought you were one of them. I wanted to put a bullet in your head for the catharsis, so imagine my surprise when you _ducked_.”

“A herd of what?” Catra frowns.

“Some colloquial term I picked up from a couple survivors down in Virginia. Everybody has a different term for those damn things.” Hordak waves a hand dismissively. “Now, what did I teach you about dodging questions?”

“How to.”

“That’s right, and yet you’re so bad at it.” Hordak narrows his eyes.

“You wanna know why I didn’t get devoured just now? Why _this_ isn’t bothering me?” Catra holds out her wrist, still bleeding a little from the bite. Hordak instantly pulls his rifle up from the ground, staggering a little from the loss of support, and points it at her head.

“You’re bit!” he shouts. Catra rolls her eyes.

“Don’t be dramatic. Bites don’t infect me. I’ve already this virus.” The gun lowers a little in surprise.

“That’s impossible.”

“So are zombies, Hordak.” Catra deadpans. “And yet here we are.”

“You’re lying to me. You’ve been bit, so you came up here to turn and kill me!” Hordak growls.

“Paranoid, aren’t we?” Catra puts her own pistol back in her waistband and holds up her hands. “Given how I’m not throwing my guts up right now, it should be clear that I’m not infected. However, if that doesn’t convince you, you’ll just have to keep an eye on me until the morning.”

“You think I’m letting you spend the night here? With a _bite_?”

“I think you don’t want to fight with me. Even when you didn’t have that bad leg, you were never a match for me. Don’t forget who left you frog-tied in front of the police station and took over your old job.” Catra reminds him with a wicked grin. Even with her shovel over her shoulder and her gun holstered, she was more dangerous than him with his rifle. She had proven it once already.

Hordak gives her one more once over and sits back down at the window with a sigh. “Fine. But if I wake up to your corpse eating me, I’ll smack you in the afterlife.”

“Like either of us are going anywhere comfy after death.” Catra sits down near the door, now sitting barely six feet away from the face of her past. 

“If you insist on staying the night, you’re sharing your food.” Hordak grumbles.

“I was thinking more along these lines,” she pulls a large bottle of whiskey from her coat pocket, and Hordak smiles for the third time since she’d known him.

“I knew I kept you around for some reason.”

_THE PAST_

Entrapta told her what happened afterward. Apparently, her heart had stopped, so Prime unstrapped her and called for a cleanup crew. Then it started again, and she sat straight up in her bed before lunging at Prime and taking a bite out of his neck. When the cleanup crew arrived, she had already consumed a significant bit of his shoulder and the crew freaked, calling security. Entrapta managed to stop them from shooting her immediately and convinced them to stick her with a quickly concocted antidote. Only two people were injured before the cure kicked in.

Catra had been in a state of near-death and total incoherence for nearly a day while Entrapta scrambled to create an antidote from Prime’s formulas. Given how much of Prime was missing by the time she regained consciousness, Catra wasn’t surprised that she felt full. It was the first time since coming to the Horde and eating those stupid bars every day. Sure, the thought of eating the man who had tortured her for months was off-putting. But the asshole finally faced the consequences of his actions and Catra was happy to be a part of it.

“We’re calling it the CP, the Carnivorous Project.” Entrapta explained while she took a sample of Catra’s blood. With Prime dead, Entrapta was in charge of the serum now, which she wasn’t happy about but took to quickly. Catra was just glad she got to visit more often under the guise of “monitoring their successful subject.” 

“You’re continuing to make that serum?” Catra asked, horrified. “It killed your predecessor, and it _could_ have killed me.”

“If it were up to me, the plug would be pulled on this whole ordeal.” Entrapta sighed. “But the stockholders were quite clear that they’re interested in what happened. Something about _engineering perfect killing machines_ as a kind of guerrilla warfare. They want to be able to infect POWs and release them back into enemy camps.”

“Your bosses sure are a humane bunch.” Catra observed sarcastically.

“Quite the opposite, Catra.” Entrapta gently pulled the blood tube from Catra’s port and resealed it. “Quite the opposite. I fear what would happen if this work were ever to leave this facility.”

“You created zombies, Entrapta. There are thousands of movies that can tell you what would happen.”

“And that’s what I’m afraid of. I’ve always suspected the bridge between science fiction and science fact was a narrow one. We’ve made that gap a lot smaller in this week.”

“Let’s do our best to keep that gap widening, then.” 

The gap between 'dangerous virus' and 'full out zombie apocalypse' lasted a month. The two injured security team members had become infected through pre-antidote-Catra’s bite without their knowledge. Predictably, they lasted barely a day before becoming zombified and attacking their families. One guard’s husband managed to take the guy out before he could bite anyone, but the other guard took a chunk out of both his daughters and four neighbors before the police arrived. The second guard they brought back to the lab. No one who was bitten was informed about what was happening.

Through studying the second guard, Entrapta realized what the serum really did. It created a highly infectious virus capable of spreading through biting and rendering its host brain dead but still physically alive after three days of infection. Entrapta unceremoniously renamed the virus Carnivorous and High Infectious Prototype and moved her focus to creating an antidote and tracking all the people infected beyond the facility. She realized far too late that dozens of people had been bitten when the second guard’s victims succumbed to the illness. It was already out of her hands.

That’s when they ran.

“I’m going to do something, and I need you to not hold it against me.” Entrapta said one day, barging into Catra’s room.

“What is it?” Catra didn’t like where this was going.

“This.” Entrapta stuck a syringe she had been concealing into Catra’s port and instantly paralyzed the feline, eyes and all. “Sorry,” Entrapta winced at the angry glint in Catra’s frozen expression. “But I need this to be convincing. And you blink a lot.”

Entrapta unstrapped her friend and wheeled Catra down the hall in her bed.

“Subject 1028 passed away at around o’seven hundred this morning.” Entrapta told the orderly manning the hallway door. Catra had never been in this part of the facility and didn’t know where that door led. Hopefully, somewhere good. “I’m taking her to the Velvet Glove for disposal.”

“There’s a perfectly good disposal area onsite, ma’am.” The orderly stated simply, writing something on his clipboard. “Besides, the Fright Zone is under complete lockdown as of this morning. The National Guard is being called in to deal with the CHIP outbreak, and we can’t have any staff offsite in case they expose valuable company data to the feds. The governor is on a warpath, looking for someone to blame.”

“That should be the least of our worries right now.” Entrapta said, confused. Catra resisted the urge to roll her eyes. Entrapta never really did understand that she was working for a secret mad science lab. “I’m going to preserve the subject’s assets before disposal, and that can be accomplished most efficiently at the Velvet Glove.”

“Ma’am, I’m afraid I’m going to have to stop you if you attempt to leave the premise.” The orderly stated, not convinced.

“Get out of my way, Kyle.” Entrapta smiled too sweetly, and the orderly went pale.

“Um-”

“Okay, your loss.” She produced a taser from nowhere, and before Catra knew what happened, the orderly was on the ground and Entrapta was pushing Catra through the door. She rolled Catra frantically up the staircase as yelling came from behind them. After almost a minute of nonstop uphill running, Entrapta whipped out a keycard and opened another door, this one heavily fortified. When it swung open, Catra realized she was _outside_ , somewhere she never thought she’d be again.

“Here you go.” Entrapta injected Catra with a different serum and her body relaxed again, eyes blinking rapidly.

“What did you do to me?” Catra demanded.

“I’ll happily tell you all about the formula, but you need to get in the car first.” Entrapta gestured to a van sitting off to their right.

“Why?”

“Because I stole these,” she opened her purse, and Catra saw several vials of bright green liquid inside. “And they’ll chase us to the ends of the earth to get their only antidotes back. Luckily, the ends of the earth is just where we’re heading.”

**THE PRESENT**

“And his leg went completely backward!” Catra laughs, slapping her knee. “The guy squealed like a mouse. A mouse! Never heard a sound quite like it again.”

“Serves the narc right. I would have broken both his kneecaps if I were still in the field.” Hordak shakes his head. His face in the electric lamplight looks just as pale as it used to.

“Yeah, yeah, you say that all the time.” Catra takes another swig from the bottle, pretending to drink while no liquid passed her lips. Hordak thinks she’s a lot drunker than she really is. “Or you did, anyway. When you were still m’ boss.”

“Before you staged that coup, you mean?” Hordak growls a little.

“Oh please, it wasn’t personal. I was tired of being your delivery cat. Besides, you’re not still mad about that, are you? World’s gone to shit, and neither of us has a gang anymore. Let it go.” Catra shrugs and passes him the bottle. He takes it reluctantly and drinks a massive swallow. She suspects it’s been a long time since he's had alcohol, and Hordak has always been one to fall back on old habits.

“Gone to shit is right.” He sighs. “I miss the power. I got it back once. Ran another gang back in Virginia when I was fresh out of prison and things had just fallen apart. I hung with a group of survivors, a big one, and as time went on, I took over the place. A whole town of scared little civilians who bent to my will like no hardened criminal ever would have. I held them in place with nothing but spite, and this,” Hordak gets to his feet with a stagger and walks over to the corner of the room, pulling a baseball bat from under a sheet of plastic. 

Catra whistles appreciatively. The thing has four spikes embedded in the top and is stained a little red. “That’s a weapon, right there. You could seriously bash in a skull with that.”

“This baby’ll knock your head right off.” Hordak grins evilly down at the bat. “She and I ruled that little town. Molded it into a fighting force of marauders just like the gang I had when the world was whole. Every day, crews went out and conquered more territory, mugged more survivors, made more progress towards my goals. I was building a post-apocalypse empire.” His voice is wistful, reliving glory days. Catra’s chest tightens. He really hasn’t changed at all.

“What happened? Somebody stronger come along and pull the rug out from under you?” Catra chuckles, hiding her fear. She doesn’t like the way he looks at that bat.

“One of my underlings got bit while out on patrol and didn’t tell anyone. He attacked everyone in his barracks two nights later when he succumbed to the sickness. There was total chaos.” Hordak sits back down, wincing as he returns to eye level with the bright little lantern. “I lost everything because of some kid.”

“You’d think you’d be used to it.” Catra shrugs.

“Tough talk from someone caught smuggling in a suitcase.” Hordak sneers.

“I was framed!” she defends.

“I know.” He takes another swig. “I ordered that myself. To think this is where it landed us.” Something cold trickles down Catra’s spine.

“You _what_?” her words are a hiss, but Hordak is far too drunk to be intimidated.

“I still had contact with the outside, you know. I had Grizzlor plant something on you and leave an anonymous tip. I even had some ladies in your prison carry out a hit on you. But you vanished before you supposedly got syphilis or something and keeled over on your own.”

“You bastard. You doomed humanity!” Catra yells, heedless of the wandering horde outside. Let them try to get in here. Catra could use something to take her anger out on.

“Excuse me?” 

“I didn’t die! I got taken to an underground lab, where they infected me with the zombie virus, which I gave to some guards through a bite, who infected the outside world! None of that would have happened if you didn’t frame me!” Catra is on her feet now, glowering at Hordak. Her hands shake, and she remembers the pistol in her waistband.

“Don’t take it so personally, Catra.” Hordak sneers, mocking her. “I meant to have you killed, nothing more. It’s hardly my fault the rest happened.

“What I did to you was business. What you did was revenge, Hordak. It’s _very_ personal.”

“You know what? You’re right. I wanted you put down like the animal you are. In fact,” Hordak grabs the sniper rifle from his side, his drunkenness making him impulsive yet slow. “I still do.” He fires, but Catra is faster. The bullet takes a chunk out of her ear as she dodges and pulls out her pistol, shooting him point-blank between the eyes. He slumps to the ground, and Catra mentally marks him as the fourth kill she’s ever had to make. 

“Always knew it would end this way.” She sighs, replacing her gun. “I should have done this instead of thinking prison would stop you from ruining my life, but I was soft then. I know better now.” She walks over to the sheet of plastic and hefts the baseball bat. 

“Now you, I can work with.” Catra nods to herself and removes the strap from her shovel, tossing away the gardening tool and placing the strap on her new melee weapon. It’s about time for an upgrade anyway.

With the sun just beginning to rise and a soft pink overtaking the sky, Catra grabs her drink, stuffs Hordak’s lantern and weapon into her traveling bag, and heads to the door. She looks back once for a last glimpse at the guy who had ruined her life countless times. 

“Goodbye, Hordak. Feel free to slap me when I get to hell. I’ll be a while, though.” She walks away, port throbbing on the back of her neck as she heads further north, away from the past.

_THE PAST_

Atlanta was destroyed. The CHIP’d, as Entrapta began to call them, were everywhere. If they didn’t have a vehicle, they likely wouldn’t have made it. Still, their car crawled like a snail, had terrible mileage, and the roads were beyond jammed. Travel was slow-going.

Catra and Entrapta drove for hours and didn’t see a soul. Not a living soul anyway. When the gas started to run out, they got out at a station only to realize the place was deserted. Entrapta left the money for the gas on the counter inside the looted station-store and they drove off again.

This continued for days. Entrapta eventually stopped leaving money and Catra stopped finding stores with anything worth looting in them. After a week on the road with nothing but stolen snack food and sodas, some of the gas pumps they came across were dry. That was a bad sign. They weren’t the only looters around, and soon, gas would be a hot commodity. Whenever they came across a flowing pump, they loaded up every container they had, from gas cans to paint cans. Even with enough gas to last weeks, they knew that driving could only take them so far.

It took them as far as Nashville.

“We should head west.” Entrapta gestured on the map laid across the van’s floor. “The virus may very well be contained to this coast or even this state. We have very good virus preventative measures in this country. With luck, the spread will stop around Kansas, and the west coast will be completely free of it.”

“I’ve always wanted to visit Cali anyway.” Catra shrugged.

“I’d give _anything_ to see Silicon Valley.” Entrapta agreed with a wide smile. Catra returned it. The scientist’s mood was infectious. Even in an apocalypse, she was cheerful. She believed against all odds that things would get better. That she could synthesize the cure she’d stolen from the Velvet Glove (the lab Catra lived in for a year and only recently learned the name of) before the virus's effects on society were irreversible.

Seeing the freshly-wrecked world wasn’t easy. Zombies roamed left and right, the streets lacking cars were haunting, and the remnants of civilized society were not yet degraded. As time went on, cars would be stolen, stores would be emptied, windows would be smashed, and the world would dissolve into an unrecognizable wasteland. But then, in the beginning, life seemed to be on pause, frozen at the moment the world ended yet could easily begin again at any moment. Things were eerily the same yet irrevocably changed.

All her life, Catra had been the type to sit back and watch the world burn. Now it was quite literally on fire, and it terrified her. At the age of twenty-four, she finally realized that chaos wasn’t what she wanted after all.

Still, there was hope. Once they got to Nashville and stocked up supplies, they could continue west. Entrapta could meet up with governmental officials who would have the equipment and ability to use the cure to save the world. All Catra needed to do was keep Entrapta alive.

**THE PRESENT**

“Hey Scorpia, you wanna hear a joke?”

 _Not really_.

“Yes, you do. Just say yes.”

 _Catra, I thought you decided you would stop talking to me_.

“But you’re such a riveting conversationalist.”

 _I’m worried about you, Catra. You really think I’m talking to you_.

Catra looks down at the bat in her hand and sneers. Scorpia has been talking back an awful lot lately. She’s very talkative for a piece of sports equipment.

“Maybe I just want someone to talk to. It’s been a while since I’ve seen anyone.” Catra sighs. It had been winter when she met Scorpia and finally put a bullet through Hordak. A lot of time has passed since then, and Catra feels a little stir-crazy. She usually hates people, but so much time alone is beginning to weigh on her. 

Catra started talking to Scorpia as they passed through Duluth and Scorpia had started talking backing during the last full moon. Catra is quite literally going insane and even Scorpia, the very object of her insanity, knows it. That is probably a bad sign.

 _I’m sorry you’re lonely._ Scorpia pauses for a moment. Catra wishes the bat had a face and therefore an expression she could read. _Can I guess why_?

“Since you’re just a piece of my subconscious trying to reach me through psychosis, I’m sure you already know why.”

 _It’s been a year since Entrapta died. It’s summer again_ . _Mid-summer_. Catra stopped walking.

“Shut up.”

 _Do you want to talk about it_?

“Oh, you want me to talk now? Who are you, my therapist?”

_I want to help._

“I don’t need to talk to you, Scorpia. I take back that you’re a great conversationalist. I didn’t mean to feed your ego.”

 _You’re a bad friend_.

“Yeah, well, you’re just a freaking bat!” Catra shoves the weapon back in her new holster and starts walking again faster, like she can escape her problems.

Is the anniversary, as estimated as dates are now, of Entrapta’s death really bothering her? Sure, it tore her up at the time, but now, a year and a lot of grieving later, she figures she would be in a place where something like that wouldn’t bug her.

 _It’s okay to be upset_.

“Damn it, Scorpia, give me a minute to myself!” Catra snarls.

_You have that minute. You’re completely alone right now._

“You don’t need to rub it in.” she grumbles. “Besides, loneliness is far from a new emotion for me.”

_I know. But that doesn’t make it any easier, does it?_

Catra thinks about that for a minute as she walks. All her life, she’d been lonely even when surrounded by people. The only two times she hadn’t been was with Entrapta on the road and when she’d been dating the actual Scorpia, another girl in Hordak’s gang. She was a little like a spiked baseball bat, made sharp by her circumstances but innocent at her core. Scorpia had been kind and loyal, which ultimately got her killed protecting Catra during a knife fight. One more death on Catra’s hands. 

_It doesn’t have to be like this_.

“Yes, it does. This is a wasteland, Scorpia. People aren’t a dime a dozen anymore. I haven’t even _seen_ anyone in forever.” Catra argues. She had been expecting people in Green Bay, but after searching the city high and low, she hadn’t found anything. That dying man must have been trying to say something else. She’d never find the person in the picture now.

_Survivors are everywhere. If you wanted a group, you would be in one. At least, if you would admit to yourself that you wanted one._

“I tried the group thing. Didn’t work, remember?” things in Topeka had been disastrous and led to her losing another precious vial of the cure. Sure, she doesn’t need it anymore because she can’t do anything with it herself without a qualified scientist and sound equipment. It just felt nice to carry humanity’s last hope with her. Now that there are only two vials left, that hope has become a serious burden. She pretty much doomed humanity once. Twice would be too much.

_Don’t you want to try again?_

“As a matter of fact, no.” Catra growls. “People only disappoint me. Either they let me down, or I let them down. It’s worth a little loneliness to avoid that.”

_You shouldn’t lie to yourself like that._

“Don’t be such a backseat bat. Why am I even talking to you? It’s not like your real or anything.”

Scorpia didn’t say anything.

“Scorpia?” Catra pulls her friend from out of the holster. Still nothing. “Fine. Be that way.” She walks in silence until nightfall approaches. She stops in front of the big empty kiosk on the Canadian border and stares at the empty chair where a person once sat. 

She thinks about a world where people were unavoidable instead of chance encounters. She remembers that world, but only vaguely. It has been a year, maybe more or less, but still a long time, and even longer since she’d lived among the regular people instead of prisoners and prodding scientists. Standing in front of that chair evokes a sense of loss in her that all the empty buildings and scattered skeletons she sees a hundred times a day couldn’t. 

She will never drive through customs again, never meet the guard who sat here. She will never eat at a restaurant, go to a grocery store, pay for gas, have a date. And neither will anyone else. If there even is anyone out in this wild world anymore. Catra may be the last person left standing for all she knows. 

“Am I the last one?” Catra asks no one in particular. 

_No. But if you keep treating all people like your enemy, you may be._

It was true. Catra hasn’t seen any people as of late, but when she used to, either she’d hide or the people would take one look and chase her off. She hadn’t tried to join a group since Topeka. She convinced herself that she’s more comfortable among the CHIP’d. She _is_ CHIP’d, just like any of the other millions roaming the streets.

“What if I’m ready now? What if I’m so lonely that I’m talking to a baseball bat?”

_Then when people find you, and they will, pretend like they’re an ally this time._

Catra opens the kiosk, the lock long having been busted off the door, and sits down in the chair. She watches through the window as the sky turns red and the sun begins to set. Even a wasteland can look good bathed in crimson.

“If anyone’s listening, you kind of owe me for giving me such a crappy life.” Catra whispers as she closes her eyes and begins preparations for sleep. “So do this one thing for me.”

She starts to drift off, under a roof for the first time in uncountably long.

“Send me an angel.”

_THE PAST_

All she could do was run. Nothing was chasing her, but she was trying to get away from something. She was trying to outrun the red all over her. Trying to get away from the bullet that had left her chamber. Desperate to escape the half-eaten corpse of her friend. 

Catra didn’t know how long she’d been going without stopping. The van was still parked outside the department store, out of gas and ready for a refuel. She left it there. She would walk, run to the ends of the earth if it would let her escape this. 

She’d never really felt a loss like Entrapta’s. She’d never shot someone before, not even someone in pain and beyond saving. She never wanted to do it again. But she knew she would. The world was different. A bullet was mercy now.

Maybe if she ran fast enough, she could outrun that.


	2. Angel

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> //Anyone who has previously read this story, be advised that no changes have been made. This work has merely been split in two for easier reading//

**THE PRESENT**

Catra isn’t one to believe in things like higher powers and miracles. So imagine her shock when her angel shows up.

Sleeping out the day, as she often does since the CHIP’ed are easy to spot at night by their glowing green eyes, she lay in a curled in a box in an alleyway. Containers are excellent temporary cover when she just needs to spend the day without clearing out a whole area. Besides, she’s always liked curling up in a box. It’s satisfying somehow.

She’s asleep in some old refrigerator box when the sound of her traps being triggered rouses her. Catra opens her eyes and tightens her grip on Scorpia, who is cradled against her chest. Another trap goes off, this time even closer. Catra coils up like a spring, ready to bash any wandering zombie clumsy enough to set off nearly all of her traps. She stands straight up, popping out of the box, and swings down, only to stop inches from the head of a very-startled woman. 

“Don’t kill me!” she yelps, throwing her arms over her head in a very delayed reaction.

“Who are you?” Catra demands, not moving Scorpia.

_It’s a girl, Catra._

“I know that Scorpia.” Catra growls. The woman’s face warps with confusion.

“Are you talking to me?” she asks.

“Of course not. You’re not named Scorpia, are you?”

“Um, no.”

“Then why would I be talking to you?”

 _Don’t be so rude_.

“Well, there’s no one else around.” The woman points out.

“I was talking to my bat, if you must know.” Catra hesitantly draws back Scorpia and rests the bat on her shoulder, if only because this woman didn’t seem particularly threatening. She didn’t even look armed.

“Your…. baseball bat.”

“I do believe I asked you who you were.” Catra directs them to the original topic.

“Oh, sorry. I’m Adora.” The woman, Adora, says. “And you….?”

“….Don’t give out my name.” Catra finishes.

“Are you sure? I just gave you mine.” Adora raises an eyebrow. 

“Positive.” 

“Fine.” She shrugs. “What are you doing sleeping in a box?”

“I like boxes. Besides, I’m only squatting here for the day.”

“You travel at night?”

“It’s safest. You can see the CHIP’d and avoid the people.” Usually.

“CHIP’d?”

“You ask a lot of questions.”

“True. I thoughts cats were supposed to be the curious ones.” Adora smiles.

“Cat joke. Very original.” Catra deadpans.

“Oh come on, that was funny.” Adora grins wider. Catra has to admit it is one of the better ones she’s heard, but that’s a low bar. “I’m hilarious.”

“Well, keep a lid on the comedy, or I’ll start breaking out the dumb blonde jokes.”

“Alright, but you could at least answer a few of my questions.”

“CHIP’d are zombies. CHIP is the name of the virus that makes them undead.”

“How’d you know that?”

“That’s not important.”

“You’re being very evasive.”

“You’re being very _invasive._ ”

“Touché.” Adora shrugs and looks around. Whatever she sees mustn’t make her happy because she frowns. “You live alone here?”

“No, my vast army is awaiting my command while I sleep in this cardboard box.”

“You could just say no.”

“Where’s the fun in that?”

“You really don’t live in a faction, do you?” Adora looks a little concerned.

“I’ve made it this far on my own. The zombies don’t bother me, and people are usually scared off once my claws come out.” Catra extends them to make a point. Adora isn’t impressed.

“Oh please, you’re not that scary.” She scoffs. “But as for being alone, I’m not sure how you made it this far. Without my faction, I’m not sure where I’d be.” It figures this girl is from a group. She’s clean, wearing fresh clothes, looks well-fed. A lot of things Catra isn’t.

“This faction of yours, what’s it like?” Catra asks curiously.

 _At a girl_.

“Oh, it’s great!” Adora perks up. “There are a few factions around here, but the Rebellion is the best. We set up shop in an old college, so the place is pretty urbanized and well-laid-out. I’m out on a scavenging run right, but most of our food and stuff is renewable.”

“You sound like an infomercial.”

“Sorry.” She rubs her neck. “Not to brag, but I helped set up the faction, so I get excited about all its cool stuff.”

“You run this place?” Catra quirks an eyebrow.

“No, but I was one of the original members. We broke off a while back from this other faction in the area that got overrun by the zombies. We _really_ fortified our new place.”

“It’s safe, then?” Catra questions.

“Oh, absolutely.” Adora nods.

“And there’s food and showers and things like that?”

“You could come back with me and see for yourself. I’m a scavenger, but I’m always on the lookout for people.” Adora offers. “Besides, how happy can you be with just your bat?”

“She’s a good friend,” Catra says simply, not denying the claims.

“That be as it may,” Adora didn’t seem to want to get into that. “You seem like you’ve been alone a while and I think you’d really like faction life.”

“You don’t know me.”

“But I want to.” Adora says smoothly. Catra laughs.

“Well, that’s your loss, but….. ok. My name’s Catra.”

“Yes!” she pumps a fist and starts walking backward out of the alley. “Come on, I’ll show you my ride and we can be on our way.” Catra rolls her eyes and hops out of her box, checking to make sure none of her few personal items are left behind before following Adora.

“You have your own vehicle, huh?” Catra wonders aloud.

“Yep. Swift Wind will get us back to the Rebellion in no time.” Adora brags, exiting the alley and heading down the street with Catra on her heels. “Just wait, you’re gonna flip when you see-”

“Look out!” Catra yells, shoving Adora out of the way of an incoming CHIP'd. The zombie sinks its teeth into Catra’s shoulder instead of Adora’s neck and Catra howls. Adora, now on the ground, watches in horror as Catra throws the zombie off and curb-stomps its head, getting goo all her shoes. Her vision goes green, and she drops to her knees from the pain of the bite.

“Oh god, oh god.” Adora whimpers, staring at the bite. Catra takes a deep breath and her vision returns, but Adora is already off the ground and pulling a pistol out of her back pocket. She points it at Catra, who yelps.

“Watch where you point that thing!”

“You’re bit!” Adora yells back. “It’s easier to take you out now than let you suffer. Trust me, I know.”

“I won’t turn!” Catra assured frantically, pulling her shirt off her shoulder. Adora blushed at the exposed skin, but Catra pointed at the bite where the green lines of infection stemmed from. A few had extended, given the severity of the wound, but they were already retreating. If she were infected, they would only be spreading. Adora’s shooting arm dropped in shock.

“But you were bit. You’re infected.”

“I’m not the one who’s infected.” Catra takes a breath. “I did the infecting. A long time ago.” She slowly pulls the spiked collar off her neck, revealing her port and the faint green scars that stemmed from it.

“You…. you’ve been cured. That’s why they don’t bother you.” Adora’s mouth dropped open. 

“I’m not a survivor. I’m a CHIP’d. Just, a recovered one.”

The other woman spent about a minute staring blankly at Catra before recovering her wits a bit.

“You need to see Angella.”

_THE PAST_

How long had it been? Not that it mattered. All she knew was that she was somewhere in Kansas and that she was truly alone for the first time in years. 

Catra wasn’t surrounded by roommates sharing her tiny barracks, or prisoners harassing her, or scientists prodding her with every possible instrument. There was no one around. She hated it.

Not to mention, she hated Kansas. It was early fall, which meant it was still hot, but there was also hardly anything to do. Towns were scarce, the plains stretched for miles, there were no good animals for hunting nor civilization to scavenge in. She didn’t gain anything from being in Kansas at all. It was just a part of her journey west towards the increasingly-unlikely possibility of a safe-zone. 

Some part of Catra knew that looking for a safe-zone was stupid. Another more prominent part of her was scared and alone, not to mention honoring Entrapta by looking to fulfill her goal. She was so sure that the government could control CHIP's spread, even while Catra remained suspicious of the government being able to accomplish anything. As someone who ran a fairly-large and widely-successful gang, she knew about how terrible the Feds were at stopping dangers before they grew out of control.

Her pessimistic nature started to dissolve when she saw the signs.

_Topeka Safe-Zone: 5 miles ahead_

_Food, safety, and shelter! Everything you need to last the pandemic provided!_

_Just outside the city off Route 470!_

_See you there!_

“Huh.” Catra examined the sign closely for the tenth time. It was written in Sharpie on cardboard, so it wasn’t exactly professional-looking, but that wasn’t important. She’d finally found literal signs of what she had been searched for month after month on her long walk. It was mere miles away!

Catra started walking faster in anticipation, and for one of the first times, she wished she had a car. She found walking somewhat therapeutic and preferred it to the metal cage of vehicles. Not that she had many vehicle options presented to her since the van, anyway. Still, as she suffered the heat of Kansas and filled with excitement, she would have been happy to have a car.

More signs appeared as she abandoned the Kansas river and headed down the highway. They read more like advertisements but served their purpose of hyping Catra up. In fact, she got so excited at the thought of a hot shower and a decent meal that she didn’t notice she was being followed. Not until one of her would-be assailants made the mistake of kicking a can.

She whirled around and saw no one but was more suspicious for it. The CHIP’d didn’t hide, and they would have attacked by now instead of trying for stealth. That meant people. Sneaky people. Catra ran.

It made sense that raiders would hide out near the safe-zone and pick off people trying to enter. She should have known. Yet, all she could do now is curse her lack of oversight and make a mad dash for the safe-zone in the hopes that she could get in before these raiders caught up.

“There she goes!” someone yelled from behind her. There was an answering roar, and three sets of footsteps started to pound down the highway after her. Only three, huh? Maybe this gang wasn’t as competent as she gave them credit for.

“Stop!” someone else yelled. Catra kept running. Yep, they were terrible at this. She could easily-

Catra stumbled and hit the ground, barely realizing she’d tripped on a wire-trap before she was surrounded. Masked figures emerged from the freeway's abandoned cars, all armed and pointing their weapons at her. She sighed inwardly and held up her hands, still on the ground from her fall.

“Well, well, well.” One of the closest ones chuckled. “Looks like we caught ourselves a kitty.”

“Say that again, and you’ll meet the business end of my claws.” Catra growled. 

“You’re in no position to be making threats, raider-scum.” Somebody else barked.

“Wait,” Catra frowned. “I’m not a raider. You guys are the raiders.” A wave of uneasiness spread through the group.

“You wear the colors of Huntara! You’re clearly one of her goons.” The second speaker reasoned.

“I took this jacket off a zombie in Lecompton; I don’t know anything about this Huntara guy.” Catra shrugged best she could with her hands in the air.

“If you’re not with Huntara, then who-”

“Hey, wait!” The three people chasing her finally caught up, slinging their weapons off their backs as they entered the circle surrounding Catra. One of them started taking off their mask instead of hoisting their gun. “I know this asshole.”

“Rude.”

“Didn’t think I’d see you again,” the mask came off, and Catra blanched. “Little Sister.”

“Point-Blank,” Catra whispered. The woman laughed and waved a finger in a circle. The other two figures took off their masks as well.

“It’s Lonnie, actually.” She corrected good-naturedly. “You know Rogelio, or Croc, and Kyle.” The two men nodded as their names were spoken. Catra recognized the lizard-man who often did partner-experiments with Lonnie and the guard Entrapta had given the slip to when she and Catra first escaped.

“Oh hey, Kyle. Long time no Taze, eh?” Catra smirked, and Kyle flinched. 

“This one’s not with Huntara.” Lonnie called to the other armed figures. “She learned her lesson about gang life.”

“You could say that again,” Catra muttered.

“You sure, Lonnie?” somebody asked. 

“Look at her, Daryll.” Lonnie challenged. “Does she look like she’s been eating well on stolen goods?” Catra set her jaw. Sure, she had been having a terrible time obtaining food for months now, but she didn’t appreciate the comment.

“Fine.” The masked figured holstered their weapons. “Be on your way.” Catra jumped gracefully to her feet.

“I’ll need you all to move, then.” Catra insisted. “I’m not far from the safe-zone, and I’m not letting you masked yahoos stop me.”

“Well, I’ve got good news for you, Little Sister.” Lonnie perked up.

“It’s Catra.”

“Really?” Lonnie stifled a snort. Catra narrowed her eyes.

“Good news, please.” 

“Right, right.” She composed herself. “We came from the safe-zone. We’re part of a paramilitary unit that patrols the area for gang activity and we’re heading back there for the night. If you come with, we’ll make sure you get there safely.” 

Catra shifted in place. On the one hand, she did know these people, though she wasn’t sure if she could trust them, and they were wearing military gear. On the other, Catra had a long history of trusting the wrong kinds of people, and this group may just lead her away from the safe-zone. Then, if that was the idea, why not shoot her now, take her stuff, and be on their way?

“Alright. But I reserve the right to flee at any sign of something sinister.”

“Works for me. Let’s move.” Lonnie made the finger motion again, and the whole group jumped down from their perches atop the cars before marching in formation in the direction Catra had been heading. Lonnie, Kyle, and Rogelio strayed behind, keeping Catra company.

“So, what are you guys doing around here? Long way from Atlanta.” Catra asked as they walked. She was still suspicious, but it couldn’t hurt to have a decent conversation while keeping her guard up.

“After everything went to shit, we booked it out of there as fast as possible.” Lonnie sighed. “Some scientist was infected when he came into work and didn’t tell anyone, so when the place locked down, we were stuck inside with him. He turned, caused some serious chaos, so Rogelio and I took Kyle hostage so we could escape using his access to the facility’s company cars. Somewhere down the line, he turned from hostage to friend, I guess, and we ended up here after a week.”

“These guys have been good to us.” Kyle piped up. “We had nothing when we first showed up.”

“Just a busted up minivan.” Lonnie rolled her eyes. “You’d think a super-advanced secret scientist lab would have better wheels.”

“We cut corners where we could, and sometimes where we couldn’t.” Kyle explained abashedly. 

“Is that why I had to eat those terrible ration bars?” Catra grimaced at the thought. “Even the smoked possum I had last night was better than those things.”

“You’re lucky that stuff was cheaper than simply having you all survive on IV fluid. If the board of directors thought they could pinch a penny doing that, they would have.”

“Don’t worry about that now, Catra.” Lonnie cut in. “The safe-zone has real quality cuisine. Tonight is lasagna night.”

“I don’t care if it’s gruel night. I’d kill for a warm meal.” Catra admitted.

“Lucky for you, you won’t have to. Plus, you shouldn’t. There’s a big no-violence policy on the inside of the safe-zone. You can get kicked out in a second.” 

“I’ll try and control myself.”

“Yeah. You will.” Lonnie’s tone darkened. “I remember you from the Horde. You’re a resistor. Play by your own rules whenever you can. That kind of thing won’t fly here. This is a military base, and they are strict. Keep that in mind next time you think about taking someone’s eye out.”

“That orderly deserved it.” Catra defended. “Besides, I’m hardly bloodthirsty. I just don’t like being pushed around.”

“All I’m saying is that you should be careful where you tread in a place like this. Say the wrong thing to the wrong person, and it looks bad on all of us.”

“You’re not exactly selling me on this place.”

“If you have somewhere else to go, then feel free ‘ditch’ like you said you would.”

That shut Catra up.

**THE PRESENT**

“Why don’t we start with your name.” the tall woman offers as she sits. Adora drove Catra back to the group on her motorbike before Catra is immediately detained by the security outside. She's is escorted to a small structure just inside the campus before Adora can even tell the security about Catra's unique status as a living zombie.

After sitting alone in the room for enough time that she is sure this is some sort of intimidation tactic, an unreasonably tall woman with bright pink hair comes in and gives her a subtle once over before sitting down. Catra wonders how well-off this society is if its members have ready access to hair-dye.

“It’s Catra,” Catra tells her. The woman nods and jots something down on the notepad she brought in with her.

“That’s your _full_ name?” she prompts. 

“Yes.” Catra says decisively. The apocalypse is her chance to make sure no one knows that her full name is _Catrina Fright_ , of all things. She rejected that name a long time ago, but it followed her on documents for years before such things became obsolete.

“Alright then, Catra.” The woman gives up questioning her further on something inconsequential as a name. “I’m Angella. Before we finalize your move in, I have a couple of standard questions for you.”

“I’ve taken surveys before.” Catra shrugs. 

“So, Catra,” Angella begins, folding her hands on the table. “How many people have you killed?”

“Wow. Straight to it.” Catra says without thinking.

“I’m protecting the safety of my people. I’m sure you understand.”

“I do.” She nods a little. However, she knows that a number like that isn’t a good measure of character in a wasteland. It’s mostly a measure of how unlucky you are. 

“So?” Angella prompts lightly. Catra thinks for a minute.

“Six.” She counts after a minute. Angella writes that down.

“Why?”

“One was an….. accident. Two was self-defense. Three were mercy-kills.”

“Mercy-kills?”

“People who were being eaten, mostly. Anyone beyond saving.”

“I can understand that. Sometimes the best option is the final one.” Angella sighs. Catra softens slightly. Even minutely, this woman understands why Catra roamed the country as an angel of death to anyone who needed it. “What about the self-defense?”

“One was an old boss who still had a score to settle after all this time.” Catra dreads the next questions, her tail beginning to twitch.

“And the other?”

_THE PAST_

It took her too long to find out she wasn’t in the right place and even longer to realize there was no right place.

The safe-zone itself was nice enough. Catra slept in barracks, ate in a mess hall, did menial jobs here and there to earn her keep. It was exactly like she’d expected. That’s where her suspicions stemmed from. To Catra, it felt like someone was trying to _imitate_ what people would be expecting from a military compound. 

After she started having doubts, the evidence began to pile up in plain sight. Her third week in, she realized no one received orders. The leader, who claimed to be a captain in the army, made every decision. There were no instructions, no manual or protocol they seemed to be following, or anything guiding them aside from their own ideas of how the place should run.

On Catra’s fourth week, she discovered that there was too much ease in how the place ran. While she didn’t claim to know much about the military, she knew the stereotypes. The excess of regulations, numerous codes and protocols that needed to be followed, strict rigidity, things like that. There wasn’t any of that, and while she could dismiss it as soldiers enjoying relaxed standards in the wake of an apocalypse, she doubted it was that simple. Soldiers, in her limited experience, thrived on conformity. 

Finally, months after her arrival, she pieced together the story of the disappearances. That’s when she realized where she was. She found out what kind of people she’d been helping. She discovered the secret of why a military base that didn’t farm or serve rations prided itself on having a ready source of food. She knew the truth.

Catra, just as she had done so many times, ran.

But they chased her. And then it happened.

“Come out, Catra!” Lonnie’s voice carried through the dilapidated mall. Catra nestled further into the clothing rack, safe within the moldy rags of the abandoned Dillard’s. Lonnie was good and trustworthy, but if the other girl took Catra back to the safe-zone, she wouldn’t be allowed to walk free with her knowledge.

“The others are chasing you too. We’ll find you, and when we do, you’ll want _me_ to be the one who catches you. I’ll be nice if you just put up your hands now. Let’s not drag this out.” Her flashlight illuminated the inside of the Dillard’s as she searched. Catra cursed internally and slunk across the floor, hiding behind shelves and displays as she made her way towards the main hall. 

If she could get back to the mall's lobby, she could double back to the exit and give Lonnie the slip. Then all she had to do was hightail out of Kansas, and they’d never find her.

“We have orders to shoot on sight, you know.” Catra paused mid-sneak at Lonnie’s words. “I don’t wanna know what you did to tick off Lashor this much, but if you come back and apologize, I’m sure he’ll get over it. He’s a reasonable guy.” Lonnie could have come up with a better lie than that. Still, Catra assumed that the safe-zone’s leader would want Catra brought in alive. The thought that she could get shot without a chance to escape if she was captured sobered her. 

Catra continued moving even quieter, reaching the hall. The urge to simply make a break for it was hard to resist, but she needed stealth then more than ever. She snuck along the wall, watching for any signs of her pursuers. When she saw no one, she broke away from the wall and ran for the door, only to see Kyle blocking her way, a pistol clutched in his shaky hands.

“Kyle, I know you’ve heard this before, but I need you to get out of my way.” Catra said calmly. She knew she could reason with him. He was terrified of her.

“Why are you running? It’s hell out here. The things I’ve seen….. I’d never leave somewhere safe.” If Kyle thought he’d seen bad things, Catra’s experiences would shock and appall him. Not that it was a contest. “Just come back. The safe-zone is the best place out there. You won’t find anywhere better.”

“I have my reasons for trying to get out, and if the safe-zone is as good a place as you claim, you wouldn’t be hunting down people who try to leave.” Catra countered.

“Lashor says you stole something. That’s why we’re chasing you. You stole our vials of the cure.” Well, that was true. When Catra first arrived, all three vials were confiscated because Lashor claimed he had the technology to possibly replicate them and give the cure to his higherups for distribution. Of course, Catra had since realized that he didn’t have any equipment or bosses to give the cure to, even if he could recreate it.

So, when she was first starting to get suspicious, she took a risk and snuck into the “med bay” to retrieve Entrapta’s work. It was there that she came face to face with her reason for leaving. The cure wasn’t housed in a medical tent at all. It was in a slaughterhouse.

But there had been only two doses there, the implications of that so vast that she couldn’t bear the idea. Was there someone else who was cured now? Did Lashor waste it without properly knowing how to administer it? Had the clumsy lizard-man simply dropped one of the most precious things Catra had ever carried on her person? She didn’t know. She couldn’t mull it over for long, either.

All Catra could do was snag the remaining vial, pack her meager belongings, put on the collar she used to cover up her neck port and hightail it during the guard change. The short distance she got before a dozen of Lashor’s best started to pursue her wasn’t nearly enough. Now, with her weapons still locked away back at the safe-zone, all she could was protect the delicate glass in her pocket.

“He’s lying to you, Kyle.” Catra said sincerely. “You don’t know what you’re doing.”

“I’m not stupid!” 

“He’s lying to everyone. You don’t know the kind of man you’re following.”

“He told me not to listen to anything you say. You’re the liar.”

“I did take the cure.” That made Kyle listen. “But I did it because Lashor isn’t someone who should have something so important.”

“And you are?”

“Hardly.” Catra deadpanned. “But it is my responsibility to find someone who can recreate this and save the world. I can’t trust anyone else to do that.”

“You still stole military property.” Kyle accused, his voice shaking. Catra took a step closer, and he hefted his weapon. She put her hands up.

“Lashor isn’t military. The entire safe-zone isn’t. It’s a ruse to take in saps like us and make us believe we’re working for a cause. Lashor’s a raider, just like Huntara. We’re in a gang, Kyle.”

“I don’t believe you.”

“I know. That’s okay. You’ll learn I’m right someday, hopefully before it’s too late.” Catra knew she couldn’t convince anyone. That’s why she had to go, even at the cost of leaving her new friends behind. Maybe Kyle would still remember he was her friend. “Now, I just need you to move aside.” she took another step.

“Stay back, Catra.”

Another step.

“I’m warning you.” his hands shook with the weight of the responsibility his gun made him carry.

She was almost to him now.

“Don’t make me do this.” he didn’t have the stomach for shooting her. 

One more step. He pointed the pistol at her head, and Catra stopped. “No closer.” 

“Ok, ok.” She tried to calm him. “Let’s be reasonable.” The fur on Catra’s back rose. Someone else was coming.

“Surender now. That’s reasonable.”

“Fine.” She nodded. Kyle lowered his gun.... and she charged, diving at his legs.

He screamed and fired, but Catra had changed positions and the shot went to where her chest had been. Right into Rogelio’s stomach. The lizard-man roared in agony and stumbled backward, collapsing onto the tiled floor. Kyle shrieked as Catra swept him off his feet, wrestled his weapon away, and drove his head into the ground, knocking him out.

She stood and surveyed Rogelio. He was losing a lot of purple blood, but that wasn’t his main issue. The big problem was the way he gasped for air. Kyle had likely clipped a lung and Catra had no first aid experience. What could she do? Lonnie was across the mall and wouldn’t get here in time even if she heard the shot, and there didn’t seem to be anyone else around.

A million situations went through Catra’s head, all failed simulations of ways she could save her friend. She stood, frozen in panic as Rogelio gargled for breath as his lungs filled up. He looked up at her before his eyes slowly went down to the pistol in her hand.

They both knew what she had to do. It was something she was slowly becoming good at.

**THE PRESENT**

“And that’s that.” Catra finishes. Angella studies her with an unreadable expression. 

“That must have been very difficult to do.” She says after a long silence.

“It’s something I’ve grown accustomed to. Putting people out of their misery is often the kindest thing you can do in a situation like that.” Catra thinks of the man whose name she doesn’t even know and the picture of the little girl in her pocket right now. 

“So this is a common occurrence?”

“Only three, maybe four if you count poor Ro, but that’s still more times than I ever thought I would have to.”

“How does it make you feel to do that?”

“It’s just the decent thing to do. Nothing good or bad about it, really. Death is a curse or mercy, depending on the circumstances. Sometimes…..” Catra thinks for a moment. She should be honest with this woman. She’s deciding Catra’s fate and seems like someone who wouldn’t take kindly to a lie, even by omission. “Some times are harder than others. People on deathbeds don’t often ask for much, but sometimes I get little tasks to do. People wanna be buried, or they want me to find something for them or tell someone they died. I can’t always do those tasks, but I do my best.”

“You have incomplete tasks, still?”

“Yeah, I have to find this little girl, tell her that her daddy got eaten. It’s not high on my list of stuff to do, but like I said. It’s the decent thing.” Catra fishes the picture out of her pocket and flashes it at Angella. “Never found her. I looked around everywhere, but she was just gone.”

Angella’s eyes widen.

“Who gave that you?” she demands.

“Some guy in Saint Louis. A short white man with salt and pepper hair. Didn’t get his name.” Catra held up her hands defensively. 

“And you said he died? You…. killed him?” Catra winces at Angella’s words.

“You could see it that way.”

“Go inside.” Angella orders, pointing at the door she came from. 

“What?”

“Get inside the base. Adora’s waiting outside. She’ll show you to where you’ll be sleeping tonight.”

“I don’t understand.”

“This man is my husband.” Angella whispers. Catra pales, dropping the photo onto the table. “That picture is of my daughter, Glimmer.”

“Oh, I am so-”

“Thank you.” she interrupts. “I never knew where Micah went or why he didn’t return to us. We were traveling through the town for supplies before we settled here, and he left us to find food one day and never came back.”

“I’m sorry for your loss.” Catra says sincerely before standing and heading for the door. Angella clearly needs to be alone.

“He didn’t suffer. Not as much as he could have. You made the right decision even though it was messy and difficult. For that, I know I can trust you.” Angella speaks up, right as Catra was leaving. “In this new world, there will always be hard decisions and so few people to make them. That’s why we need you. I hope you will prove me right someday.”

“Don’t hope for a disaster.” Catra warns, turning around to face the older woman. Angella was standing before the table, staring at the photo but not daring to touch it.

“I don’t. I know one will come.” Angella whispers, not looking up. Catra agrees silently before slipping out of the room. 

“So? How’d it go?” Adora is indeed waiting right outside for Catra. Two teens their age stand by her side. Catra recognizes one of them instantly.

“Great.” She waves off.

“Oh, excellent! Are you staying or-”

“Glimmer?” Catra asks, pointing at the stout pink-haired girl. The girl nods, confused. “You should go inside. Your mom’s get bad news.”

“Excuse you?” Glimmer folds her arms. “I haven’t even gotten your name yet. I’m hardly going to follow your advice.”

“Don’t take it. That’s fine with me.” Catra shrugs. “But I would go in if I were you.”

“And this is Catra.” Adora butts in with a nervous smile, casually getting between Catra and Glimmer. “Catra, this is Bow, and you seem to already know Glimmer for some reason.” Adora points at the guy standing with a dumbfounded face next to Glimmer. 

“Hi there.” He grins a little, still somewhat stunned.

“Howdy.” Catra deadpans.

“Glimmer, why don’t you go inside?” Bow encourages.

“You trust this _outsider_?” Glimmer demands.

“She’s not an outsider anymore. She’s been approved.” Adora says proudly. 

“For two minutes!”

“Glimmer, come on. Don’t you trust me?” Bow frowns dramatically and Glimmer frowns back. Adora sighs.

“They came to help show you around the place before we take you to your quarters.” She explains while Bow and Glimmer face off with increasingly childish expressions. “Except, I found out on the way here that there aren’t any quarters available right now, so you’re staying with me for a bit.”

“For the record, I told her that was a terrible idea.” Glimmer breaks the standoff to address Catra.

“Oh, you would.”

“It’s okay, I’ve got the room.” Adora assures everyone. “I’ve got a huge place for someone who spends so little time in it. Plus, the closed quarters will make it easier for me to fulfill my duties as your watcher.”

“My watcher, huh?” Catra smirks. “Never had a parole officer before. I guess it’s about time.”

“You’ve been to jail?” Bow asks, genuinely curious. He has such an earnest expression that Catra can’t find it in her to be sarcastic.

“Yeah, it’s a shithole. Prison always is. Didn’t have to spend long there, though.” She shrugs.

“Really?”

“Who would let _you_ out of prison early?” Glimmer crossed her arms.

“Glimmer, thank goodness you’re already here. Get inside, please!” Angella calls from the door of the little room. Glimmer gives Catra a suspicious look.

“Told you.”

“Hmph.”

“Glimmer!”

“Coming mother!” Glimmer reluctantly slinks off to join her mother and Catra feels a twinge of sadness for the news she’s about to receive.

“Let’s go see these digs, blondie.” Catra starts to walk off.

“What about Glimmer?” Bow frowns.

“She’ll be a while, and she’ll want to be alone when she’s done. We should get going.”

“I’ll stay. Glimmer doesn’t like to walk around alone if she can help it.” Bow reasons. A loud wail sounds from inside the little shack and Bow pales slightly. “Definitely staying.”

“Come on.” Catra all but shoos Adora away from the room before Adora shakes herself a little and grabs Catra’s hand.

“I’ll show you around a little first. You might even get to meet some folks.” Adora has an unreasonably large smile on her face, and Catra finds it infectious.

They walk through the little town, which is a college campus revamped to be a society. People are going about their business in a surprisingly domestic fashion and Catra gets little flashes of what the world was like so long ago. Everywhere used to be like this. 

However, halfway through the tour, Catra notices she has an admirer. A young Dominican kid is watching Catra from around a corner, seeming to think she was sneaky.

“We’ve picked up a stalker.” Catra chuckles when Adora stops her guided tour for a moment. Adora searches their surroundings before settling on the kid.

“Oh, it’s Camila’s girl. I wonder where the other one is….” Adora trails off, looking around again.

“What?”

“You’ll know her when you see her.” Adora waves off Catra’s question.

“I don’t-”

“Boo!” Someone yells. Catra whirls around and sees a CHIP’d standing right behind her. Catra hefts Scorpia, but somebody screams. “Wait, no!”

“Catra!” Adora grabs her hand before she can attack the zombie and a girl appears from behind it.

“What are you doing? You could have killed him!” she accuses.

“It attacked me!”

“He wasn’t hurting anyone. He’s on his leash.” The girl folds her arms and the first kid appears behind her.

“Amity-” she tries to reassure the second girl.

“She came at Edric!”

“Edric is fine. Catra's a newcomer. She sees a zombie, she tries to kill it.” Adora explains. The girl, Amity, narrows her eyes at Catra.

“You keep that weapon away from him.” she growls. Catra pins back her ears and prepares to show this kid what a _real_ growl is like before Adora puts a hand on her shoulder. Instantly, she felt calmer. 

“I like your bat.” The first kid offers while Amity storms off in a huff. “I used to have one.”

“Thanks kid.” Catra lays the bat across her shoulder, careful of the spikes.

“I like your ears too.”

“I made them myself,” Catra says offhandedly, but the kid bursts into laughter and Adora chuckles.

“I have to go after her, but it was nice meeting you.” the kid gestured with her head at Amity and rushed off with a wave over her shoulder.

“Bye, Luz.” Adora waved back. 

“You have a lot of kids here?” Catra asks casually as they continue walking.

“Mostly parentless ones who made their way through the wasteland with sheer luck. Most of them end up here because they read comic books telling them to head north because zombies fare worse in the cold.” Adora laughs a little, and Catra swallows. “But some come here with families.”

“Are they all characters like those two?”

“Pretty much. We’ve got the wolf girl, the jaguar, the frog girl, the bug guy, the plant girl…. Lots of kids with particular interests.”

“Gotta keep busy somehow.”

“Luz and Amity are pretty close. Luz reads manga while Amity does her little science experiments. She’s trying to ‘weaponize’ the zombies. Calls them abominations.”

“Well, they’re an odd couple if I’ve seen one.” Catra deadpans.

“They’re not so bad. Amity’s actually a sweetheart, but she’s been in bad shape since Edric….. turned. I understand more than most.” Adora’s expression darkens. “I lost my brother really early on. He got bit in the first waves and….. just faded away.” She sighs. The cure in Catra’s pocket suddenly seems heavier.

“When was Edric bit?” she asks. Adora frowns in confusion.

“Two days ago. Why?”

“I-” Catra takes a deep breath. Slowly, she pulls one of the cure vials from her pocket and Adora’s eyes widen. She knows. “I can help. I can make him like me.”

**_THE FUTURE_ **

Catra was let into Red River because she knew how to make hard choices. Sometimes, late at night in Adora’s arms, she thinks about the tough decisions yet to come.

No matter how good things are, they will always become bad again. Catra has always known that. She spends hours pondering what she’ll do when things hit the fan. Still, in all that thinking, she’s assured of her plan.

One day, one of two things will happen. Bow could come through and find the equipment needed to make a cure. Then, Catra could put her worries aside and finally rest easy with Adora. Her girlfriend would finally be safe from the roaming hordes.

Or, more likely, there will never be more cures. There will only be one. In this scenario, Adora will be bit and start dying. It is _going_ to happen, and if there’s only one vial of cure, Catra will have to make one of those hard decisions Angella knows she can.

But Catra will choose wrong in that instance. And she’ll do it knowingly.

When Adora gets bit, she’ll receive the cure. Whether it’s from a batch Bow whipped up or from the vial secretly nestled in Catra’s pocket instead of Bow’s lab where he thinks it is, that won’t matter. Adora will be saved, even at the expense of the whole of humanity.

And Catra knows she won’t regret it for a second.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm incapable of writing Glimmer as not a jerk.  
> This thing is massive, I'm sorry. I just keep adding stuff and ended up with nearly 15,000 words. One thing I left out, however, was Entrapta's death. I started writing it and kinda gave up. Wasn't worth it. If your curious, her death is exactly like Noah's from the Walking Dead (only Catra puts her out of misery pretty quickly) so you can Google it if you're a masochist. I wouldn't recommend it, though, that clip is nightmare fuel.
> 
> You can check me out on Tumblr, where I also go by ChippedCat. I post previews of oneshots and chapters of my WIP as well as great fanart. If you liked my little tale, leave some kudos or comments, I always appreciate it! Thanks for reading!


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